Loving the Game
by adoptedsin
Summary: The Ducks are sophomores at Eden Hall, and hockey is back in season... but Luis's relationship with the Ducks becomes shaky. Could the team lose their number 22 jersey?
1. Back to Eden Hall

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places in this story, nor am I affiliated with any of them. I am merely the writer, and this is my story.  
  
Author's Note: Well, this is my first fan fiction in a very, very long time. Actually, I don't know what happened to my previous Fan Fiction account, so this is my new one. Luckily, I don't write valuable stories, so the loss isn't so significant. Anyways, enough about my life horrors; I'll give you all a short side note about the story. It sucks. That's basically it. No, just kidding. I decided that since there aren't many fiction stories here about Luis Mendoza, I would write one. After all, there's already enough written about Banks and Conway. Oh yeah, and just to warn those of you looking for a new plot, I don't think you'll find much here. It's your typical story line. Boring, but for some reason, people still manage to read these things and give decent reviews.  
  
Point of View: Luis  
  
Well, I'm back to my hockey-playing life in Minnesota. I'm not too enthusiastic about it; I mean, I love hockey, but I wonder how much the team has changed. I know I have; I'm just wondering if I made the right kind of transitions.  
  
I unlocked the door to my dormitory room and stepped inside without making a sound. Everything looked pretty normal here: the same kind of beds, lights still working, the same curtains, the same carpet. Yeah, I'd have to say I'm grateful that at least the dorm rooms haven't changed too much.  
  
As I chose my bed on the left side of the room and decided to toss my bags onto the floor, something banged and crashed into the door from the other side. I frowned. I heard a familiar voice and the jingling of keys. The door suddenly swung open and Charlie and Russ literally fell through the doorway and into the room with several suitcases. I couldn't help but laugh. These were the Ducks, all right.  
  
"Do you guys plan on making a chaotic entrance every year?" I asked, almost sarcastic but still laughing.  
  
"You know it, man!" Charlie said, laughing as well.  
  
Russ picked himself up. "Speak for yourself, Conway. You're too much trouble." He gave me a brotherly hug. "So, what's up with you, Cuban boy? You got taller." He squinted at my face. "And tanner. Hey, man, Charlie, maybe you need to go hang out with Luis in Miami next summer and get a real tan." He ducked as a pillow flew out of Charlie's hand.  
  
I unzipped my bag and began unpacking. "Miami's Miami. But no one was interested in playing real hockey with me down there. At least, not anymore. I guess I've been with you guys too long, huh?"  
  
Charlie plugged in his stereo and turned up the volume. At the push of the "play" button, the heavy melody of System of a Down blasted out from within each speaker. "Yep. Welcome to the real Duck cult," he joked.  
  
"So you guys think you can survive sophomore year with me?" Orion's voice boomed from the doorway.  
  
"Orion! You made it!" Russ answered sarcastically. "Well, it looks like another year of King Orion to handle." Before Coach Orion could reply, Russ put a hand on his shoulder. "You know, Coach, since I can handle only so much of you for one year, I think I'd better be off, get some unpacking done." He exited the room quickly.  
  
Charlie stood up and shook his coach's hand. "Are you sure you're our coach still?" He winced as the coach's grip tightened. "All right, all right. We won't make too much trouble this year."  
  
Orion smiled, satisfied. "That's good to hear, Conway, because we've hired an assistant coach to keep you Ducks on top of things and disciplined."  
  
"Another Coach Orion?" I asked.  
  
"Yes, another Coach Orion, if you wish to phrase it that way," he said in his deep voice. "But I don't think you'd want to address her by that name." He grinned and left the room, leaving us with our mouths hanging open in disbelief.  
  
"A female Coach Orion? How hard can sophomore year get?" Charlie threw himself on his bed and covered his face with a pillow.  
  
I laughed, amused by Charlie's always-complaining moods. "You don't want to know."  
  
Author's Note: What'd I tell you? Boring, huh? I think it's a little too rushed. Well, the plot should continue to thicken, if that's possible at all anymore with my stories. I realize how short this is. But I plan to post another chapter up by tomorrow morning. And sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors that I missed (I read it over three times before I uploaded it!). It's also going to take me quite a length of time to figure out how to work this new uploading stories system. Fan Fiction is really messed up now... 


	2. Nothing New

Author's note: I promised I'd have another chapter done by this morning (that promise was based on Florida time, of course), so here it is! At least now I know I can reach my own deadlines.  
  
Lockers, lockers, lockers. The best part of the first day of school. Why? Well, I guess I'd have to say that, being a sophomore, it's a lot easier to find it than it is to find new friends. In an uncontrolled environment, searching for my new locker and turning through the three-digit combination are the most controllable ingredients in my experimental life. But... back to the Ducks; after all, they've been my life for the past three years, and they'll be there for another three years. Hopefully.  
  
I glanced down at the yellow strip of paper in my hand. "Locker number thirteen-twenty-one... thirteen-ten... thirteen-fifteen... thirteen-twenty- one," I mumbled to myself. So far, so good. I reached for the lock and turned the black dial.  
  
"Hey, Luis!"  
  
I looked over my left shoulder to see a cheerful Connie, dressed in bright clothes, as usual. It's a little sickening, I must admit. I wonder if she'd smile through a tornado.  
  
"Hey, Connie. How's it going?" I turned back to open my locker while she leaned on the locker next to mine. Out gushed her story of a Minnesota summer vacation. Her life must be a fairy tale or something, because first she's talking about how she was mad that she didn't get to go to New York with her aunt, but, in the end, Minnesota "had a series of wonderful summer rains." May I add some sarcasm? ...How cute... I think I just might puke. In actuality, though, I merely smiled and nodded; no need to make the cherub cry, right?  
  
"Well, I'm going to go. Julie's calling me. It's great to see ya again!" She gave me a small kiss on the cheek and bounded across the hallway.  
  
For some odd reason, she was a tad bit too happy for my liking. Maybe she's high. No... Connie's too nice for that.  
  
"I think she likes you, man," Adam said, greeting me with a friendly punch in the shoulder. His fingers expertly turned the combination of the lock on the locker next to mine, and he opened the locker without any struggling.  
  
I grabbed my schedule from within my open locker and stuffed some textbooks into my book bag. "How would you know?" I slammed my locker shut and watched him organize his things.  
  
"Hey, I know more than just hockey."  
  
"Yeah, right. Banks, the love expert. You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"I heard Connie broke up with Guy a couple weeks ago." Adam looked at me for a reaction.  
  
I shrugged. "Guy needed to get away from her a long time ago. She's becoming a damn flirt."  
  
Adam raised an eyebrow. "And you're not?"  
  
"Fine. Never mind, then. I'll just keep my distance from her."  
  
The warning bell rang shrilly, and students rushed to get to class.  
  
"I'll catch you later, Banks," I said, walking away.  
  
"Later, man."  
  
The first two classes went by slowly with a long introduction of the courses and what would be expected of us. Not too much there. I guess Algebra II and European History will be my boring classes. I'll have to make a note of that, just in case I happen to be a little sleepy one day.  
  
Now for third period. English and literature. This shouldn't be too bad. I took a seat in front of Ken, who smiled tiredly at me.  
  
"What's wrong with you?"  
  
Ken shook his head. "Nothing; I'm just still in sleeping mode. I never noticed how long and boring a flight from San Francisco to Minnesota really was."  
  
I shook my head. "Sorry, Ken." It seems like it's going to be a pretty boring year. Then again, it's just the beginning. We'll have to wait and see.  
  
As I turned around to face the front, someone caught my eye, and I paused. Yes, a girl, and a beautiful one at that; a lightly-tanned Latina --- long, wavy blonde hair and dark eyes. Scratch that: it looks like I'm going to have an interesting year, after all.  
  
Author's Note: Well, that's another short chapter. I'll be working on Chapter Three this afternoon, and I'll see if I can get that up by tonight. If you haven't already noticed, there should be italicized words in a number of places. I can't get the italics to upload with the story and I'm too lazy to add the HTML tags. So, bear with me; I know it's kind of hard to read a story and to try and guess the emotions. If you haven't noticed, then wonderful; it just annoys me when I can't add the feeling into my characters when they speak. And before you accuse me of stereotyping Luis as a flirt and creating a "Mary-Sue", wait until the story's done! It's not all it's made out to be. (Again, sorry for any spelling or missing-word mistakes. Just tell me if you find any and I'll be happy to fix it.) 


	3. Coach Cortez

Author's Note: *Talking to myself* All right, Jaime, let's cut the cute stuff and get down to the dirty truth of it all. No, wait, that can't come yet. *Now addressing audience* Sorry, everyone. I know, I know. My stories either come along too quickly or too slowly. Let me see what I can do to fix that. And thanks to everyone who made suggestions. I'll certainly use them and I'll do my best to avoid the hated "Mary-Sue". I have officially decided to type out each chapter without any rough drafts on the lined paper that I so adore. So, if this site has to re-do everything again, I'm going after them because I now have nothing written down except the storyline and character descriptions! Haha, I'm only kidding. Well, then, enjoy the story.  
  
First hockey practice of the season. How exciting. I wonder why I'm suddenly so sarcastic now that I'm finally at school. I'll have to figure that out sometime.  
  
We were in the guys' locker room after school, changing into our hockey gear. The place was filled to the brim with noise, shouting, chasing... you know, all that insane stuff that proves you're not ready to grow up yet. Everyone acted like there had been no summer vacation; it seemed as if this was simply another practice, another day. Averman and Goldberg were sharing jokes. Russ, Portman, and Fulton were having a supposedly "gentle" beat-up session on Ken, who had lightened up since lunchtime. I guess food really does help.  
  
"Hey, are you guys done in there?" Julie knocked on the door.  
  
Adam let Connie and Julie in for the personal team pep talk. We had agreed to have one before we went to practice, just to get things in order for the season and school year.  
  
Charlie banged on one of the lockers and stood up on a bench. "All right, you all! You can shut up now! We have ten minutes before we need to be out there!"  
  
The team quieted and allowed the Duck's captain to begin talking.  
  
"Okay. First of all, just wanted to say that the Ducks are back, and we are going to rule this school!"  
  
Everyone cheered and clapped loudly; it took another minute to get all of us settled down again.  
  
"I was just kidding. We won't rule the school."  
  
Fulton and Portman groaned in disappointment.  
  
"But if you guys don't know already we're gonna have a new assistant coach."  
  
"I heard it's some lady from Arizona. Think we should give her a challenge?" Russ asked.  
  
Portman answered, "Don't mind if we do!"  
  
Dwayne shook his head and sighed. "Look, guys, we're here to be Ducks. Yeah, we fly together, but let's give the lady a chance, especially if she's new in town."  
  
"What the heck kinda Duck are you, Robertson?" said Fulton.  
  
Charlie stepped down from the bench. "Dwayne's right. Let's give her a chance. If she blows it, well, you know what comes next." He grinned. "So, let's go get the intro over with. She might as well get to know us today before she starts judging us."  
  
Grouped together, we skated out into the rink, as the varsity hockey team finished up their practice and headed out. After what happened last year, I think they lost some pride, but they're still as mean as hell in the hallways.  
  
Julie looked around for the coaches. "They're not here yet. Should we wait?"  
  
Portman began skating around the rink, speeding up with each turn. "Why wait? We got the rink all to ourselves; let's use it."  
  
"I don't have my rope with me today," Dwayne began.  
  
Portman looked at the Texan hockey-player. "I wasn't talking about that, cowboy. Let's do some hardcore scrimmage."  
  
I almost laughed aloud. Hardcore scrimmage? I've never heard that one before, especially not from the Ducks. Sure, we were competitive, and sometimes we were a little too competitive, but hardcore? That's an over- exaggeration of what our real practices are like.  
  
"Hardcore scrimmage on your own time, boys." A lady skated swiftly onto the ice and stopped at the group of Ducks on the other side of the rink. She saw Julie and Connie and added, "And girls. This is Eden Hall territory. You play how we teach you to play and how you know to play. Either that, or you're out. We don't need any attitudes here." She removed her blue cap and eyed each of the players.  
  
"Are you serious? Where's Coach Orion?" Portman came up behind her, incredulous.  
  
She was dressed in a black sports jacket and dark blue jeans, but she certainly didn't look like the casual type. "Coach decided that the only way for me to get to know you all is to have one day of practice alone with the team. My name's Coach Cortez. No Missus Cortez, no Miss Cortez. I'm here only as a coach."  
  
We remained silent. She was definitely going to be a challenge, but we were ready. By talking to us like we were just a bunch of undisciplined kids, she was asking for big trouble. And I could already feel the team formulating some plan to torture her on and off the ice.  
  
Coach Cortez continued to talk. "I've heard a lot about you Eden Hall Ducks." Her laugh was short and sarcastic. "It's sophomore year. Time to grow up. You guys played games last year. Let's get some real hockey out here."  
  
Portman raised his hockey stick in the air. "So, what do we do then, Coach?" he asked, his voice dripping with the heavy sarcasm that matched her laugh.  
  
She glared at him. "Take a ten-lap warm-up. Then scrimmage. I want to see where all you guys are in this game." Her lips were pressed tightly together in a straight line.  
  
Oh, yes, this is going to be a most pleasant hockey season.  
  
Author's Note: I just need to post a notice right here. I won't be posting another chapter until Friday night or Saturday sometime since I have school and softball practice. What a pain. But now I get an extended amount of time to edit the upcoming chapter and make it longer! You may not have noticed, but this chapter is a little longer than the previous two. Maybe I should keep lengthening each chapter like this. It makes for a good read, does it not? Well, I know the plot has not yet fully built-up yet, but I'm getting there! I promise to have more "action" in chapter four! 


	4. Cheerleaders Again?

Coach Cortez has officially discovered my knack for crashing into objects on the ice. After our seemingly endless practice, we dragged our bodies back to the locker room to change. We thought we were done dealing with her for today, but, no; she wanted to talk to each of us individually. She forced us to wait outside her new office as she called us, one at a time, to discuss our so-called "hockey skills."  
  
And now it was my turn. I watched as Banks walked out of the office with a grin plastered on his face. Life was too easy for him when it came to hockey. I'm more than positive that he got his usual position on the team.  
  
"Luis Mendoza," Coach Cortez said, waiting for me to sit down.  
  
Her office was all white with a bulletin board nailed into the wall behind her desk. A lamp stood on her stone-like desk, which more or less represented her attitude and facial expressions. Documents, notes, and folders lay strewn atop the desk; she definitely wasn't one for organization.  
  
"You seem to have an innate talent for... how should I say this? For colliding into living and nonliving things on the ice."  
  
I stared at her two rock-hard eyes while she spoke to me. I knew what was coming; I had heard many similar speeches and lectures in the past three years.  
  
"You're swift on your skates, but I'm going to need you to learn how to use your brakes, Mendoza. Otherwise, I can't guarantee you a starting-defense position on the team. It's too dangerous for the team and for yourself."  
  
"But no one's going to want to help me with the braking stuff. I already have a reputation on the team for..."  
  
Coach Cortez shook her head. "Work on it. That's all I can say."  
  
And she dismissed me from her office. Some help she was.  
  
I left the room, and passed by the team. I wasn't in the mood for a chat with them.  
  
Outside, the sun shone on the campus too brightly, and I had to squint my eyes in the light as I walked down the stairs and headed to my dorm room. Autumn in Minnesota was more than I could handle. Birds still chirped, and occasionally we witnessed flocks of ducks flying, probably making their way down south for the coming winter. The mornings were the worst. I couldn't wait for Daylight Savings Time to end.  
  
There was the girl again, ambling along in the grass near the school's library. A small smile grew on my lips. She was wearing black shorts held up by a belt of dulled spikes and a light blue Adidas( t-shirt. I made a mental note to talk to her sometime. But first, I had to find out her name...  
  
A recognizable voice called my name from the top of the stairs. "Luis!"  
  
I spun around and shaded my eyes. I groaned inwardly in disappointment. Cheerleader alert. I had begun to believe I could avoid them this year, but I guess not.  
  
Cassidy Williams, now a varsity cheerleader, bounded towards me. She giggled when she hugged me and stepped back.  
  
I rubbed the back of my neck with the palm of my left hand. "Hey, Cass," I said. I quickly glanced at her ecstatic face and looked away, my gaze shifting from the pretty girl walking out there near the library to the garden and back. Maybe Cassidy could take a hint and leave me alone.  
  
But she didn't. Varsity cheerleaders, at least at Eden Hall, had too much pride to notice or even think that someone didn't want to associate with them. After my experiences with them last year, I swore I wouldn't have anything to do with them again.  
  
"How was your summer?" she asked, still smiling and playing with the end of her long, blonde ponytail.  
  
"It was okay." I decided to keep my answers short, for fear the junior would go off on a tangent in our conversation if I went into detail about anything.  
  
She looped her arm through mine. "Only okay?"  
  
When would this end? "Yeah."  
  
Cassidy giggled her annoying playing-with-Barbie-and-Ken giggle. "Aww. I missed you over the break. Why didn't you stay in Minnesota with us?"  
  
I shrugged. "I went to Miami to visit my family."  
  
"That's sweet of you." She adjusted the position of her textbook in her hand. "Wanna walk me to my room?"  
  
Finally, I can get away. "No, thanks. I've got homework to do right now."  
  
She pouted. "Are you sure? It'll be fun..." she said playfully.  
  
Shaking my head, I answered again in the negative. My frame of mind today was not one of a flirt. Didn't I say I had changed over the summer? I wasn't about to go back to the girl-obsessed guy that I had happened to be last year. Except for maybe that one girl. After all, I had to give new people a chance...  
  
I returned to my room alone. My back and shoulders had been burdened by the increasingly heavy weight of my hockey bag and book bag. Thank God for the floor. I dropped everything without hesitation and dropped my own tired body onto my bed. Is it still the first day of school?  
  
Russ, Adam, and Charlie, always talking loudly, entered the room, also carelessly tossing their things on the floor next to my belongings.  
  
"What are you guys doing here?" I asked without moving out of my position on the bed.  
  
Russ pretended to collapse on the carpet. "Just coming to get you to do our homework so we can sleep."  
  
"You wish," I answered. My eyes were closed, and half of my face was buried in a pillow.  
  
Charlie once again turned on his stereo, and punk music filtered out of the brand-new speakers. His old ones had been torn up last school year during a prank...  
  
Banks tossed a light folder at my foot, which was hanging off the bed.  
  
"We saw you flirting with another cheerleader after practice," he began to say.  
  
"I wasn't flirting," I interrupted to defend myself.  
  
"All right, all right," he said. "Well, we saw you talking to one."  
  
"What's your point, Banks?"  
  
Charlie raised an eyebrow at the impatient tone of my voice.  
  
Banks looked from me to Charlie, then his eyes went down to his open textbook. "Nothing. Nothing at all."  
  
Author's Note: I'll have the next chapter typed up by tonight (the 29th of March 2003; Florida time) and upload it. Hope you found it to be a somewhat decent chapter despite its slow development and the boredom it may cause. (I'm really quite angry with myself that I haven't gotten to the point of the story yet.) 


	5. Lunch Time

Author's Note: I'm typing this at night, although by the time I upload this and have it up on the site, it'll be morning, or even afternoon. Curse the business of the weekend! But let's calm down, and enjoy the sweetly sour story of Luis, shall we? Oh, yeah, and to answer Cakey's question about what had happened to Luis in his experience with the cheerleaders in his freshman year to make him want to avoid them, I was referring to his "relationship" with that varsity cheerleader in D3. Sorry about the confusion there; I should have been more detailed in my explanation of it.  
  
Yes, I was mad. Actually, I don't know what anger is anymore. I've been feeling that emotion so often now that I'm not totally sure if it truly is anger and not confusion instead. Either way, I wanted to get out. Out of Eden Hall, out of Minnesota, and away from the Ducks, away from the people who didn't know a thing about me. Did they suddenly pull apart from me, or was I the one who had abandoned them?  
  
I believed lunch to be the best part of the school day thus far. But my "friends" had proved me wrong today.  
  
I was entering the abnormally large Eden Hall cafeteria, and, seeing no one else I could sit with and talk to, I resorted to dining with the team. After all, we're not called a team for nothing.  
  
As I approached the table, which was already half-filled with Ducks, I saw Connie glance in my direction. Immediately, I knew to steer clear of her, and I took a seat between Guy and Portman. It was the safest place to be at the moment... I think. Maybe I just wasn't thinking clearly enough in the first place.  
  
When I sat down and mumbled a casual greeting to the rest of the group, I suddenly felt a number of Duck eyes on me. Normally, I would have liked the attention, but I honestly had no idea what they were staring at.  
  
"What's wrong?" I had asked, as soon as I noticed the abrupt silence. My body tensed itself instinctively. I no longer felt comfortable around the team.  
  
Fulton was the first to look down.  
  
"What?" I said more loudly. This suspense thing wasn't working for me. "Should I not be sitting here?"  
  
Averman, sitting across from me with a forkful of mashed potatoes in his hand, shook his head in reply. He looked at Julie. "You tell him, Cat Lady."  
  
Julie frowned back at Averman. "Why me? You're the one who told us!" she whispered aloud.  
  
Portman took charge. "I'll tell you, Luis," he said, before I could say anything.  
  
Everyone, surprised, turned their heads to peer at Portman.  
  
"Really, it's nothing, Luis," Charlie pressed. He glared at Portman to stop talking, but the enforcer simply returned the glare and continued to talk.  
  
"Charlie and Averman here," he pointed at each of them, "think that you're having some relationship problems with us. Mostly with the Connie and Guy thing."  
  
I stared at Charlie, my anger growing. "Really?" I asked sarcastically. "Why would it matter to you guys?"  
  
Goldberg raised his index finger to speak. "Well, it could be because of your characteristic flirtatiousness."  
  
Averman hastily filled in a blank spot in Goldberg's statement with, "Which isn't a bad thing."  
  
Portman snickered. "What they're trying to say is, 'Is there anything going on between you and Moreau?'"  
  
And that was it. I had set myself up for this moment, hadn't I? All these years of "charming Luis" and "pretty-boy Luis" had somehow managed to find their way between what friendship I had left with the Ducks. Just like every other person in the damn school, they had fallen into labeling me as the speedster Duck who had nothing more to characterize him than a talent for hockey and a male teenager's typical love for the opposite sex. In the eye of basically everyone here, I was most closely associated with cheerleaders and the Ducks. I hated it, and I hated them.  
  
So I left. I would have preferred to disappear, but the next best thing was to get up and leave the table. All I remember seeing before I stood up was Connie's weak smile. She was fake. The Ducks were fake. What was I really doing here? 


	6. The Girl

Author's Note (6 April 2003): I haven't been in the mood to write this weekend. Well, no, let me correct that. I haven't been in the mood to write a decent chapter of conversation and real action. I don't want to write in this condition; I don't plan on messing up my story by rushing it, so, sorry for the delay.  
  
I stormed outside, but I wasn't about to cry. I was angrier than I was heart-broken. I just needed a place to sit down by myself and maybe, as an added bonus, I could find something to throw.  
  
Did I already tell you how much I hated life and everyone in it? Well, let me re-emphasize that thought. I hate life and everyone in it.  
  
It wasn't until I had arrived at a tall oak tree about two hundred meters away from the cafeteria that I realized I had forgotten my lunch on the table. I cursed under my breath in Spanish, so no one could hear me. Without anything to eat, I sat down. That was all I could think of to do.  
  
I lay down on my back on the recently mown grass and folded my arms underneath my head. I allowed my eyes to close, and the sunlight burned through my eyelids. Man, this wasn't a good day. How was I supposed to survive the rest of high school when I didn't even know how I was going to survive the rest of this school week?  
  
And why the hell do I ask myself so many questions?  
  
A series of crashes and rustling in the leaf-covered branches above me broke through my thoughts. I saw a small, white, round object falling towards me.  
  
"Damn it," I whispered to myself. Hastily, I rolled out of the way, and the ball bounced down into the grass next to me. A baseball. Yeah, that would've hurt.  
  
A small dog of a fairly thin, dark brown coat approached me, looking for the ball, which I had clutched in my left hand. He began to sniff around for it, engrossed in his hunt for his toy.  
  
And there was the girl. I can't believe I still don't know her name.  
  
"Sorry about that," she said to me. "I didn't mean to throw it over here. Did it hit you?" She picked up the dog, who wriggled in her hands excitedly and then jumped free, still in search of the baseball.  
  
She was wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt and dark blue cotton shorts, which exposed a decent amount of lightly-tanned legs. Simple, but perfect. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and strands of wavy hair hung out. And her dark eyes were amazing; they sparkled in the shade of the tree rather than in the beaming sunlight.  
  
I sat up, and the dog leapt toward my hand playfully. "I'm glad you did," was the first thing out of my mouth, and instantly, I regretted it. Mentally, I threw myself over a bridge. How could I say that? Crap, maybe I am a flirt.  
  
I shook my head. "Sorry... I mean, don't worry about it. It didn't hit me."  
  
Meanwhile, the dog was having a great time trying to pull the ball from my hand. I let go of it, and he bounded away with it as if it were a prize.  
  
The girl sat down next to me. "Well, thanks for the excuse to sit down and rest. He can play by himself now," she said, referring to the small dog romping in the grass, his ears flapping with each jump.  
  
"What kind of dog is he?" I decided I might as well make some kind of non- sexual conversation. What better way to make a friend, right? Yeah... right.  
  
She untied and re-tied her tennis shoes. "He's a Schnoodle. A mixed breed, between poodles and schnauzers. I like to call him Yana, but my mom always gets mad about it. She officially named him Kepiyan, whatever the heck that's supposed to mean."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"So, what's your story?"  
  
Surprised, and amused, by the candidness of her question, I answered, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Life, the way this school sucks, parents. The Ducks." She shrugged.  
  
I turned my head to look at her face. "How do you know about that?"  
  
"I have ears. Plus, I have classes with most of the team. It's not easy to avoid gossip, but at least I don't spread it around like that Connie girl does. You know she's out to get you. Sexually, I mean; not for blood."  
  
I didn't answer this time.  
  
The girl peered at me. "Are you okay?"  
  
My head was pressed back against the tree trunk. "No, the school's hell, and..."  
  
She interrupted me. "And life's a bitch. Yeah, I know. Just live it."  
  
For once, something made sense. "Thanks. I'll try to remember that."  
  
"No problem. It never works for me, but I figured it could help someone else."  
  
I stood up to stretch my legs. "I guess I should go. And thanks for almost hitting me with the ball."  
  
She cocked her head. "I don't know why almost getting smashed in the face by a baseball is a positive thing, but more power to ya."  
  
I laughed, before turning away and heading back to class. She was okay, in a strange way.  
  
I didn't even ask for her name.  
  
Author's Note: Short chapter without much substance. I just decided to write this one to get myself comfortable with writing about the new girl. I'll mention her name in the next chapter, so I won't have to keep calling her "the girl". 


	7. Damn You, Mendoza

Practice was fun that day.  
  
That was a sarcastic remark. I couldn't help myself. You know me. Kind of.  
  
I was the first person out on the ice. I just wanted to get practice over with. Hockey was becoming more of an obligation than a team sport now. It was tiring. I loved hockey, but the last two days were tough on me. The sport was losing its appeal.  
  
"Mendoza!" Coach Orion barked. "Where's the rest of the team?"  
  
"They're coming." I took one very slow lap around the rink while we waited. I was dragging my skates along; Coach Cortez was the only one who noticed.  
  
"Try lifting the skates, Luis," she commented in a dry voice.  
  
I looked over at her. Her arms were crossed, and her right hand held a clipboard. Mumbling to myself, I began to speed up and was soon oblivious to the other Ducks, who had joined me in our usual warm-up laps only a minute before.  
  
Adam tried to catch up to where I was in the front of the pack.  
  
"Hey, man."  
  
I sighed deeply. He had broken my concentration.  
  
"Hey," I returned in a low voice.  
  
"Sorry about today. We were all stupid about it. We should have known you wouldn't have anything to do with Connie and Guy's relationship and why they broke up. Well, you know what I mean." He fell silent for a moment, then continued, "So, everything's straight? Everyone's feeling pretty guilty about it."  
  
I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the ice beneath my skates. "Yeah, sure, I guess." I pushed myself ahead of him, gradually getting faster with each glide of my skates. They just didn't get it. We weren't those little teenagers we had been in the Junior Goodwill Games. Things were more complicated; they didn't actually think an apology would make all their problems go away, did they?  
  
"All right, Ducks. Get to the center. Take a knee," Coach Orion ordered, as we reached the end of our last lap.  
  
Charlie found a spot near the front of the group and kneeled. "What are we doing today?"  
  
"And please don't say we're going to hop up and down like fools, Coach. My legs can't handle that today," Averman complained.  
  
Orion glanced momentarily at Cortez. "Okay, Averman. We're not doing "hopping" today, as you so intelligently put it."  
  
I heard a sigh of relief from several Ducks.  
  
Cortez cleared her throat. "No. Instead, Coach Orion and I have put together a practice plan for you all."  
  
"Aww!" Goldberg groaned loudly in disappointment. At a warning glare from both coaches, he quickly added, "I mean, yeah, fun."  
  
Russ snickered.  
  
"As I was saying," Cortez continued, "Your practices are now organized from day to day. This practice will consist of perfecting offense skills for a full hour and ten minutes. Then there's a thirty-five-minute scrimmage and ten cool-down laps. Does everyone understand? I don't want to see anyone fooling around out there."  
  
A chorus of, "Yes, coach" was heard.  
  
Orion clapped his hands once. "Okay, get up. We've got practicing to do."  
  
They lined us up side by side in front of the two goals. Half of the team practiced with Julie as their goalie, and the other half stayed on Goldberg's side of the rink.  
  
I happened to be in Julie's group... with Charlie, Portman, Guy, Russ, and Ken.  
  
"Oh, great," Julie joked, as she pulled her gloves on, "I'm stuck with the guys."  
  
Before Russ or Portman could make a reply, Coach Cortez approached our group, forcing the two guys to glare at Julie with faces that clearly read, "You'll pay." Julie merely laughed and stuck her tongue out at them.  
  
"You six," Cortez snapped. She allowed Julie to finish putting on her new gloves and turned to the six of us to talk. "No child's play. Just because this is practice doesn't mean you get to slack off."  
  
"Done, Coach," Julie announced.  
  
Cortez nodded and stepped off to the side so she could see all seven of us. "We're starting off simple for the next ten minutes. Take shots at the goal. Any way you want to do this is fine. Nothing too dramatic. It's just a warm-up."  
  
We shook our heads up and down in understanding.  
  
"All right. One at a time. First Guy, Russ, Luis, Portman, then Charlie. Keep the order." She walked off to the other side. "Begin."  
  
Without a word, we lined up and took shot after shot... after shot. The pucks were giving me a headache.  
  
It was almost five o' clock, and practice was far from ending. We still had a scrimmage to look forward to.  
  
"Water break, you all," Coach Orion called out to the team.  
  
Thank you.  
  
Unfortunately, the water break did not by any means signify the end of practice. He called us back out onto the ice.  
  
"Are we going to do something that's actually fun, Coach?" Dwayne asked.  
  
"Yes, scrimmage means fun. You guys get to choose your own teams. We're giving you five minutes to organize your own scrimmage."  
  
Cheering from the enthusiastic ones.  
  
Is that possible? To organize our own scrimmage, I mean.  
  
Charlie took charge, of course. He feels the need to take care of us, even if it means he has to boss us around.  
  
"Averman, you wanted to be back-up for both teams, so you can take the bench."  
  
Averman smiled gratefully, relieved that he had the easy job.  
  
"Julie, you're goalie for Connie, Fulton, Ken, Luis, and Banks. Goldberg, you're goaltender for... me, Guy, Russ, Dwayne, and Portman. That's okay with everyone, right?"  
  
There were no objections. We were too tired to speak for no reason. There was very little energy left in our bodies.  
  
I skated over to my usual position as right wing. Time for the excitement to begin, I thought to myself. The coaches were killing us. But, Ken and Fulton I could work with. There were no problems between us.  
  
Banks skated by me and gave me a thumbs-up. I nodded. Inside my mind, I shook my head. He was being way too naïve about the conflict at lunch.  
  
"Take the puck, Luis!" Fulton yelled from across the ice, as Charlie intercepted a pass from Connie to Banks.  
  
I raced after our captain. Charlie neared Julie's goal and appeared to be preparing for a stick-side shot.  
  
I pushed myself to go faster and swerved between Charlie and Julie, stealing the puck for our team. With a snap of my wrist, I sent the puck flying to Ken on the other side of the rink.  
  
"Damn you, Mendoza. What the heck was that?" Charlie grumbled, pushing past me.  
  
Did he always plan to make me mad? My toleration for him was running low. I skated up behind him, ignoring the cheering of my team as Ken made the goal. "Stop your whining, Conway. It's getting old."  
  
Charlie stopped abruptly and turned quickly on his skates to face me.  
  
Author's Note: I know I didn't put the girl in this chapter. It was a last- minute decision. 


	8. Just a Girl with Ears

Author's Note: Finally, I'm back to this story! Oh, yeah, I changed the rating from PG to PG-13. I'm not good at rating things according to content like that, so, I decided to change it just to be on the safe side for this one.  
  
"What the fuck is your problem?" Charlie asked, his tone threatening.  
  
"Forget it." I skated away to join my team. I really needed to lighten things up if I didn't want anyone to notice the vibrating tension.  
  
"Conway, Mendoza, is there a problem?" Coach Cortez called out from the other side of the ice.  
  
I looked back at Charlie before shaking my head in the coach's direction. "None at all," I answered.  
  
They always notice though. Why coaches usually turn out to be one of your buddies in the end is beyond me. It worked for Charlie with both Bombay and Orion. He must be some kind of miracle kid with coaches. Then whenever you have a problem, they're on you like a pack of hounds, trying to figure out what's wrong. And they keep pushing you into the sideboard until you break down and tell all.  
  
Okay, so maybe I exaggerated that a little. But for the most part, you have to admit, it's true. _______________________________________  
  
"Is there something Coach Cortez and I are missing here?" Coach Orion asked Charlie and I after practice. He had let everyone off the ice after the cool down laps, but forced the two of us to stay with the remaining coaches.  
  
From the corner of my eyes, I saw Charlie tighten his grip on the handle of his hockey stick. I had an idea of what he wanted to do at the moment; he wanted to slam his fist into a wall, possibly even my face. I don't think he'd risk intentionally hurting one his teammates though. He knew he'd regret it later when we would finally decide to make-up and be friends again.  
  
"Well?"  
  
We stayed silent until Charlie answered with, "Nothing."  
  
"Nothing," Coach Orion repeated. "Nothing. Well, if this 'nothing' doesn't get cleared up soon, I'm going to make it into something. And that something is going to be solved once and for all. By me. Personally. Got it?"  
  
We nodded.  
  
"All right. Go change. You guys have practice tomorrow too."  
  
"Stuck in crap already, huh?" Charlie commented quietly as we made our way to the locker room.  
  
"You can say that again."  
  
"So, what was that out there, anyways?" He turned his head to look at me, a calmer look in his eyes.  
  
"I don't know. It was a scrimmage. I was just... playing hockey."  
  
He shrugged. "That sounds reasonable. I guess that's what hockey practice is for."  
  
I grinned. "Thanks for the definition of 'hockey practice,' Captain Duck," I remarked in light sarcasm. ____________________________________________  
  
She was wearing a grey t-shirt and navy blue sweats when I ran into her again. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, as though she had been rushed to get somewhere.  
  
As I walked out of the locker room with the Ducks' goodbyes ringing in my ears, I blindly turned a corner quickly and ran into the one and only nameless girl.  
  
"Ouch," she said, dropping what seemed to be a sketchpad.  
  
"Oh, sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it," she returned, bending down immediately to retrieve her orange-colored pad. She looked up at me, and smiled in amusement. "Oh! It's you again."  
  
"What are you doing around the hockey rink?"  
  
She fitted her pad of paper between two textbooks in her arms. "I just came to see Coach."  
  
"Coach? Which one?"  
  
"Cortez. Who else?" she laughed. "What's with all the questions, by the way?"  
  
I smiled back at her. "Just curious. I don't meet new people here like you everyday. It's good to have something new."  
  
She seemed to be considering what I had said and then nodded. "Sounds like a good explanation."  
  
I shouldered my hockey bag and squinted my eyes when the door opened to reveal a massive, blinding sun. The breeze felt good today, but not enough to block out the incoming heat.  
  
"Mind if I ask another question?"  
  
"You just did, loser."  
  
I shoved her lightly and smiled. "Okay... can I ask you two more questions, not including this one?"  
  
"Sure," she said, pushing a loose strand of hair to the side where it wouldn't bother her.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "A little late to be figuring that out, don't you think?"  
  
I shrugged. "I never said I was always on time or early," I answered.  
  
She grinned and cocked her head. "True. True. In that case, I'm Kristin."  
  
"And I'm Luis."  
  
"I know. We have English together. You're a sophomore on the junior varsity hockey team, also known as the Eden Hall Mighty Ducks. And supposedly all the girls here like you... but I haven't yet confirmed that little bit of info. And, no, I'm not a dangerous or murderous stalker. Just a girl with ears." Her lips stretched into a smile as she finished her sentence.  
  
I shook my head and chuckled. "Anything else you don't know about me?"  
  
"Well, I can't read minds; therefore, I still have no clue who you really are."  
  
"No one does, I guess." 


	9. Good Things and Kisses

Author's Note: Chapter Eight, I just realized, was rather short. Oops. Well, here goes another chapter.  
  
"Glory is what we call a drug.  
  
It holds nothing for us,  
  
But we continue to chase it.  
  
Endlessly.  
  
Isn't it the most wonderful feeling though?  
  
Just think of all the applause you'll get,  
  
Just think of all the smiles you've pulled into place.  
  
Now it's your turn  
  
To plaster a smile upon your own face.  
  
It's not quite so easy.  
  
But you'll get the hang of it soon enough.  
  
After all, you have nothing to lose."  
  
The bell rang.  
  
________________________________________  
  
"Hey, Luis," Connie said, falling into step with me as I walked down the hallway to my next class.  
  
I didn't turn my head to look at her. "Hey, Connie. What's up?"  
  
She hesitated to speak. "Not a lot. Just thinking."  
  
"Cool." I had no desire whatsoever to ask her about her latest "wonderings," as Averman liked to call them. She was going to ruin my day; I could feel it.  
  
"So... um, I was wondering if you'd like to come hang out with me and Julie and Scooter tonight. Just for fun. Kind of, I guess." She continued to stare at me, expecting an affirmative response. "But, I mean, if you have something else to do..."  
  
My eyes went from the floor to Kristin, who was passing by. I felt her nudge me with her fist and caught a glimpse of her playful grin.  
  
"Actually, Connie, I think I'm busy tonight. I gotta get to class. See you at practice, right?"  
  
She was now officially confused with what had happened. Maybe she's never been turned down before? Tough luck.  
  
I made a move to get ahead of Connie, but she pulled me back.  
  
"Wait, Luis. Can I at least talk to you later tonight? It's important." Her eyes pleaded with me to accept.  
  
I sighed, though not visibly. "Sure. I'll drop by your room tonight or something."  
  
"Great." I could see her breathe a sigh of relief followed by a suspiciously flirtatious smile.  
  
I caught up with Kristin a minute later at her locker. Leaning against the locker next to hers, I said, "I didn't know you wrote poetry like that. You seem..."  
  
"Like the cheery type?"  
  
Surprised, I nodded. "Yeah. Basically."  
  
"I've got just as much hidden angst as you do, Mendoza."  
  
"How do you know I have hidden angst?"  
  
"I guessed." She slammed her locker shut, causing me to wince.  
  
"You can't guess that," I argued.  
  
"You're right. It's just obvious," she laughed.  
  
____________________________________________  
  
I sat down in Coach Cortez's office after practice that day. I had no idea what was going on. I don't think I was in trouble; I hadn't even caused any commotion at practice.  
  
"Before you ask me why I called you in here, Luis, I need to know something," Coach Cortez began.  
  
I nodded my head in silence, not sure where she was going with this.  
  
"Are you dedicated to hockey?"  
  
Silence.  
  
I frowned at the question. "That's a pretty random question."  
  
"Yes or no? As random as it may be, I'd like you to answer me." She shuffled some papers on her desk and awaited an answer.  
  
"Well, yeah. Otherwise, I wouldn't be playing hockey."  
  
The door opened with an audible squeak, and in entered Kristin.  
  
"Kristin, I'm talking to someone right now. Do you mind?" Coach Cortez said sharply, shooting a disapproving glare in her direction.  
  
Kristin's dark eyes blazed in annoyance. "Sure, Coach. I'll just come back when this important issue is no longer important," she threw at Coach Cortez and waved an envelope in the air.  
  
Coach merely nodded and her face became cold. "Leave, Kristin. Luis," she said, turning back to me, "You may leave as well."  
  
Kristin watched as I got up from my seat, picking up my bag. I slipped by her body in the doorway and couldn't help but notice her narrowed and angry eyes.  
  
She slammed the door behind us.  
  
"Damn it. I hate that lady," she mumbled, walking quickly towards the exit.  
  
"What was that all about?"  
  
"My mom's a bitch. Haven't you noticed that yet?"  
  
I stopped. Holy shit... I never would have guessed. No wonder she's been coming and going into Coach Cortez's office everyday. But they're nothing alike.  
  
"What?" she asked, confused by my reaction.  
  
"Let me get this straight. Coach Cortez is your mom."  
  
"Yeah..." she replied, slowly and unsure. "What about it?"  
  
"Why do you call her 'Coach,' then?"  
  
Kristin's fingers tapped the railing on the stairs. "Well, she doesn't like being called 'mom.'"  
  
"Oh." Big surprise.  
  
"Yeah." Her face fell, and then she looked at me again. "I wish she hadn't become a coach, you know? But she loves hockey too much. And then I wonder why she would want to coach hockey at a school like Eden Hall. I mean, I can't even keep up my grades for this crap."  
  
"Neither can I, but I just came on scholarship," I shrugged.  
  
She laughed. "No, trust me, your grades are so much better than mine will ever be. And I have no scholarship. Coach says it's risky stuff. I can't fail or I'll get kicked out. She already has to pay for my tuition."  
  
I shook my head, looking out towards the courtyard. "That sucks."  
  
Her gaze followed mine, and she too began to stare intently at the glowing- orange sun setting on the green of the slightly curved landscape and leaving shadows that stretched out over the harsh exterior of the school buildings. "Do you like my mom? As a coach, I mean."  
  
"She's okay. A little unsympathetic at times, but better than nothing."  
  
"She thinks pretty highly of you from what she's told me. It's kind of weird. She prefers her hockey players to her own daughter."  
  
My eyes pulled away from the sun-draped school grounds, and I cocked an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
"She sees good things in store for you. So do I."  
  
___________________________________________  
  
I left Charlie in our dorm room at six o' clock that night to go visit Connie as I had promised.  
  
Tornado warning: High.  
  
I wasn't going to go thinking she had good intentions in mind. I knew she was planning something. Connie was never as innocent as she looked. And to think I had once liked her. I'm convinced that it was my alter ego who had liked her, not the real me.  
  
Knocking on her door (she shared a room with Kelly, a sophomore known to hang around with both the cheerleaders and yearbook staff cliques), I released a tired and heavy sigh. This wasn't what I had planned for my school year, but it wasn't unexpected either.  
  
Connie opened the door slightly, a smile breaking out on her face as soon as she saw me. "Luis! Come in."  
  
I stepped inside the room. It was plastered with posters of singers, actors, hockey players, and with random flower decorations: the whole girl shmeel.  
  
She picked up a couple of books on her bed and tossed them onto a desk that seemed on the verge of collapsing. "Welcome to the ultimate girl's room," she giggled.  
  
I took a closer look at one of the framed pictures on the wall of the Ducks' peewee hockey team. The one next to it was of our team at the Goodwill Games. "Well, these are decent," I commented on the photographs.  
  
When she didn't answer, I turned around to face her.  
  
I can remember distinctly her lips on mine. Everything else I'll leave to your imagination. But that would be a dangerous thing to do, wouldn't it? 


End file.
